


Rick Grimes: Time's Dusting

by skysonfire



Series: Andrew Lincoln [1]
Category: The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: AMC, Andrew Lincoln - Freeform, Devilish Midweek Divulgence, F/M, Fanfiction, One Shot Collection, Short Encounters, Smut with a Story, Terminus, Zombies, porn with a plot, www.devilish-midweek-divulgence.tumblr.com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Devilish Midweek Divulgence "hump day" blog (www.devilish-midweek-divulgence.tumblr.com), this is the first piece that I've written featuring Rick Grimes. Photo edits associated with this piece can be found on the Tumblr blog site. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rick Grimes: Time's Dusting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Devilish Midweek Divulgence "hump day" blog (www.devilish-midweek-divulgence.tumblr.com), this is the first piece that I've written featuring Rick Grimes. Photo edits associated with this piece can be found on the Tumblr blog site. Enjoy!

The house was immaculately beautiful, save for time’s dusting, which blanketed everything like fuzzy shadows. It made no matter; we were a small group now, and after fastidiously barricading every window and door, it felt good, even normal, to sink down into a musty couch or perch atop a filmy marble countertop. There was a kitchen, an actual kitchen, and bedrooms; at least five that I had counted. It would be fine, for the next few nights in any case. I had made the mistake of calling a place “home” in the past. This place had been a home once before, but that was before.

The air smelled of snuffed candle wicks, and I made my way up the winding staircase with a heavy purpose that suggested sleep. Already, the members of our group had found their places; some in beds, some on sofas, others on the floor. I, for one, craved the embrace of a mattress. To hell with the might-be spiders; I didn’t even care anymore.

Walking the length of the upstairs hallway, I turned into one of the last rooms and closed the door behind me. I wasn’t necessarily surprised to find Rick laying in the dark, his unmistakable silhouette radiating amidst the moonlight that shown heavy through the dirty windows. My pulse quickened in my throat and I swallowed hard before the words spilled from my lips.

“Think there’s room for me?” I asked, quietly.

He sat up quickly and made motion.

“Sit,” he rasped, gently.

I did as I was bid and just as soon as my body struck the mattress, he sunk to the floor, placing his hands on my worn right boot, carefully coaxing the laces free.

“Rick?” I asked, but my heart beat so urgently that I was unable to muster another word. He responded simply, as though our thoughts were staring, each into a mirror.

“Shhh …” Just the sound in his mouth …

Carefully, he removed my right boot, then my left, while his lips fluttered like feathers across my bare knees and thighs. I leaned my head back, just relishing the sensation of his touch, the moisture of his mouth, and I could feel the heat of my body spreading like an inexorable virus from the pit of my stomach, up into my chest and between my legs.

My feet freed, he stood and wrenched me toward him by looping his fingers through the waist of my shorts. My legs surrounding him, he loomed over me and examined my face with a biting and unpredictable gaze that had become so familiar. I touched his closely-cropped beard and thumbed tenderly at his cheek. He placed his hands down on the mattress on either side of my hips and pushed his mouth on mine, forcing my lips open to taste his tongue. He was so hot and vital, I couldn’t stifle the moan that had been growing inside of me, and I ran my hands down his sides, my fingertips catching against his skin.

My senses piqued, I beheld him carefully in the night’s light as he encouraged my back down onto the bed. He was so rugged and sinewy and angry and wanting — I felt drunk on his advances. It was only when he snaked his fingers through the side of my panties that we heard the scream downstairs.


End file.
